


view from the outside

by ansley15



Series: heat-verse [3]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Christmas, Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Other, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-18
Updated: 2011-08-18
Packaged: 2017-10-22 19:30:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ansley15/pseuds/ansley15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: From the outside, all angles are revealed at different times. McCoy-centric friendship fic about his moments with each member of the threesome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	view from the outside

“Jesus Christ, Jim, what am I...a doctor or a relationship counselor?”

 

“You know, back when we were at the Academy, you wanted to hear about my kinky threesomes.”

 

“Only the one with Gaila and...what was her name...”

 

“Leitka.”

 

“Right. Her. But this is a whole different ballgame, kid. I don't want to hear about your adventures in Polyamoryland. God knows what STDs you are inflicting on the other two. If I have to check out that pointy-eared, poker faced boyfriend of yours for venereal diseases, I swear to God I'll end you...”

 

“Bones!” Jim Kirk's clutched his heart in mock-hurt as waggled his eyesbrows rascally. “I thought you swore an oath to do no harm!”

 

“An oath I'll have to break if you keep marching on in here putting dirty pictures in my head,” McCoy grumbled under his breath.

 

The zingers crackled and popped between them, drenching the room and McCoy with a familiar warmth. It had been, he reflected, awhile.

 

“Jesus, Bones, you're my best friend! Who else am I supposed to go to for advice when I have relationship problems?'

 

“Considering you're shagging two people at once, I reckon you got two choices.”

 

The sentence came out darker than intended. Jim softened.

 

“I guess it's been awhile since the two of us just hung out and talked,hasn't it?” Jim admitted with a wry, remorseful half-smile. McCoy shrugged, allowing himself a nonchalant jerk of the head.

 

“I'm running sickbay full of people, Jim. I don't need you waltzing in here all the time bragging about shagging your first officer and your communications officer. Why can't you show up spontaneously when it's time for your physical, when I don't need to hear about your depraved sex life?”

 

“Oh now I'm depraved!” Jim laughed out loud. “I'm in a committed relationship for the first time in my life!”

 

“And only you could only commit a committed relationship with two people at once. Come to think of it, why was I even surprised?”

 

“Because you know me too well.” Jim smirked. “It's not all about the menage a trois, Bones, I've been learning a lot.”

 

“Spare me the details.”

 

“I'm not talking about positions! Though..I...have learned a lot of new positions.” He allowed himself a devilish grin before sobering. “It takes a lot of work to be dating two people, you know? It's a lot of effort. There has to be a lot of open communication and honesty.”

 

“All relationships need open communication and honesty,” McCoy explained patiently in a tone appropriate for explaining 1+1=2 to a toddler.

 

“Yeah, and that's a relationship with two people. Try having good communication with each lover separately, and having open congress with all three of us at once! And I've found out a lot about myself I didn't necessarily know...things I needed to work on. Like being honest to myself. And actually giving a damn.”

 

McCoy appraised his friend with a hard blunt stare.

 

“You've grown up,” he said plainly. The twitch of Jim's mouth didn't quite veil the slightly surprised fear in his eyes.

 

“Yeah. I guess I have. A little.” He lit up mischievously. “Don't worry, Bones...I'll still be your bitch forever.”

 

With that, Jim turned jauntily on his heel and was strutting head-high down the corridor almost before the doors hissed shut.

 

Heard only by walls, Bones whispered

 

“I doubt it.”

 

***

 

“I think she's fine. She's fit as a fiddle and ready for love.”

 

“Doctor, I find myself increasingly vexed by the illogical colloquialisms expressed in...”

 

“Damn it, Spock, if we're going to be here all night, you have got to stop correcting me every time I open my mouth!”

 

“I have not corrected you in all instances. I have only corrected your speech 73 out of the 106 times you have spoken during the 3.5 Terran hours we have been working in this laboratory...”

 

“Spock, I swear to whatever deities there may be....”

 

“..and since I estimate that you use colloquialisms approximately 30% of the time, as opposed to the average 15% percent, I consider my self-restraint admirable.”

 

Spock and McCoy had spent the entire evening holed together in sickbay. After receiving a distress call on the outpost Ataris IV, the Enterprise rescued a gaggle of scruffy-haired, cat-eyed Atarian children with skin was leathery and green as fresh Guoma leaves and apparently photosynthetic. To the best of his ability, McCoy lathered their burns in healing adhesive while Spock logged their characteristics for further data recollection. By the third hour, McCoy felt frayed by both Spock and the chittering, rambuncous Atrian children. His nerves spiked brittle and sharp at each word.

 

“Humans sometimes speak figuratively,” McCoy barked out. “If you're always so damn set on cultural sensitivity, why does that bug you so much?”

 

Offended, Spock straightened stuffily to full height.

 

“We Vulcans,” he answered coldly. “have always embraced infinite diversity in infinite combinations. I simply remark about illogical turns of human speech I do not understand.”

 

“I bet you would understand my “colloquialisms” if I asked you ...'If humans are such a bee in your bonnet, why are you screwing two of them?”

 

Spock's ear tips smarted emerald. A huge grin split McCoy's face.

 

Hey...I got the last word!

 

Spock did not respond for almost half an hour. Fortunately, as soon as the silence began to grate, McCoy fumbled his scanner and earned a disdainful remark from Spock. With relish, the doctor reentered the bickering.

 

*****  
Nyota's fingernails rapped brittlely on the table while she stared into the distance. Her eyes were always ever-changing. Sometimes they were flat as walls. Other times, like now, they were liquid and wide and beckoned to a softer, cooler world.

 

“It's just hard,” Nyota said finally. “Being in a relationship with two lovers who have an epic bromance going on at the same time.”

 

“Are you sure you don't want a drink?” McCoy asked gruffly, eyeing her in concern. She shook her head and daintily crossed her legs at the ankles, mulling her words before she spoke.

 

“Positive. But thank you.” A sigh drained her lungs. “And I'm really not jealous...even before Jim joined us I appreciated Spock's friendshi...okay, fine. I was a bit jealous then. But we've moved beyond that now.”

 

McCoy said nothing, having honed over the years a sensitive knack of knowing when not to speak.

 

“It's just frustrating because they bring their Captain-First Officer dynamic into our relationship. When they are bouncing ideas off of another on the bridge, working together to save the galaxy, their efficiency as a command team is exemplary. But for this relationship to work, all three of us have to communicate with each other. Spock barely talks as it is. In his own way, I think Jim is even worse. And when they are edging off of another with all their inside jokes, all their eye contacts and subtle smiles, unspoken things only they understand...”

 

“You feel stuck with a room from the outside, with no way to get back in,” McCoy finished gravely. Nyota nodded.

 

“Yes. Exactly.”

 

Hunching forward in his chair, McCoy propped his elbows on the table, hushing his Southern drawl.

 

“I can't say what you're telling me is entirely unfamiliar, Nyota. Now, while we are looking at this from the different side of the same fence,” McCoy squirmed at the idea of having sex with Jim-or worse-Spock, much less at the same time. “I think I get where you are coming from.”

 

A perfectly penciled eyebrows arched.

 

“Really?”

 

He nodded.

 

“They're my best friends,” he said baldly. “Both of them. Don't you dare tell the elf I said that.”

 

“Cross my heart.” The corner of her mouth tugged.

 

“Best friends a man could ask for. Best damn command team in Star Fleet. And I'm sure as hell glad that Jim has Spock to watch his back, as a lover, a friend, and a First Officer. And I'm sure as hell glad that Spock hasn't tried to strangle him over a console in a year or two...but...”

 

McCoy's voice faltered. A soft hand darted out to his forearm.

 

“They have their own little world of theirs, don't they?”

 

“Yup. They sure do.”

 

“Yeah. I guess it's nice.”

 

“Yeah. I suppose it is.”

 

“...I think I could have that drink now.”

 

Neither of them spoke as McCoy precariously filled a glass half-way with amber liquid. He was mildly impressed when Nyota drained it in one fell head toss.

 

“It's just frustrating,” She burst out, clanking down the glass sharply. “That it's so hard to have friends when you have just one lover, much less two at the same time. You know until I came down here tonight, I haven't seen Christine in over a month? And I know they were both my friends before all of this...Jim, really, more than Spock because he was my professor first... but it's different than with them, they can provide that element for each other, and they don't get it that....”

 

Her mouth clamped shut. Her face raised itself to McCoy for reassurance.

 

“You know,” he said slowly “You do have friends on this ship, Nyota. Don't let those boys of yours make you forget it.”

 

She smiled bright as the night compasses after which she was named. The warmth from that smile crackled all through his veins.

 

“Thanks for listening, Leonard.”

 

He tried to quell his disappointment when Jim and Spock apologized to her. When Nyota couldn't help but forgive them. The next night, McCoy's bourbon bottle remained corked. The chair opposite his was pushed back, unfilled.

 

***

 

On Christmas morning, a slate gray silence stilled all the corners of the McCoy house. Shore leave on Earth was always hell. The tiles Johanna's baby knees had kissed, upon which she took her first warbling steps, were speckled with dead flies and caked with dust. Aside from a few gnawed down hambones, the refrigerator was empty as the guest room. While shuffling out, McCoy reflected upon the bottle he wanted to avoid (but knew he'd end up cracking) and the voicemail from Johanna last night he had already listened to (but knew he'd wind on repeat.)

 

This Christmas, however, Jocelyn would not win. Leonard McCoy had plans.

 

“Come over to our place, Bones! We'll be glad to have you...” Well, they certainly were more interesting than re-runs, McCoy thought. Gaudy tassles glittered silver and gold from the ceilings and mathced a pert, plucky little Christmas tree in the far corner of the apartment living room. Nyota's doing, McCoy was sure. Old Terran Christmas carols tinkled low in the background, unlistened to by all but Nyota, who hummed softly to herself as she bustled about the kitchenette.

 

“Now, after dinner, I want to all of you to help with the dishes, except Leonard, because he's our guest.” Nyota declared, hands on her hips; the peak of determined efficiency. “That includes you, Mister.”

 

She brandished a floury roller at Spock. The Vulcan's eyebrows leapt up incredulously. Jim laughed as he ambled into the single bedroom to rummage to change out of his flour-plastered shirt.

 

“Certainly Christmas is an illogical holiday, Mr. Spock?” McCoy remarked causally to his friend, leaning against the counter as he gingerly sipped his eggnog. Spock raised his eyebrow calmly and tilted his head towards McCoy.

 

“On the contrary, all cultures have their customs, their various celebrations which exist for very little purpose other than social cohension. While I admit it rather illogical to celebrate the birth of an old Terran deity several months before the date of his supposed birth because of the festival of yet another Terran deity, I recognize that the ultimate purpose of such a holiday is a recognization of family. Though I do not believe in deities and though I doubt the logic in purposefully misleading one's children to believe in the existence of this “Santa Claus” folk hero, I recognize the cultural significance of the celebration.”  
He paused.

 

“Also,” his voice faltered slightly. “My mother was human. In honor of her heritage...and mine...the holiday was celebrated in our household to coincide with its celebration on Earth.”

 

“I bet none of the other Vulcan kids got Christmas presents. Did that ever make you feel like you had an abnormal family?”

 

“Families, Dr. McCoy, do not follow a paradigm.”

 

The table was set and steam rose from the food in inviting spirals, McCoy glanced at the others for the cue to edge towards the table. Jim poked Nyota gently in the ribs, cocking his head at the ceiling with bright eyes.

 

“Misteltoe.”

 

Laughing, Nyota pecked Jim tenderly on the mouth even as they both preoffered two pressed fingers out to the side. Spock imitated the gesture, offering a hand to each.

 

“Come on, Bones! Dig in.”

 

Smiling grudgingly to himself, McCoy stepped forward. The family waited until he joined them before drifting to the table.


End file.
